


Beer Pong

by ode_to_an_inkwell



Series: Games of Innocence [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sibling Love, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ode_to_an_inkwell/pseuds/ode_to_an_inkwell
Summary: Jon and Sansa both attend a party where things get out of hand.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Games of Innocence [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688002
Comments: 16
Kudos: 72





	Beer Pong

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked me not to include other relationships in this series, but this is where the story has gone for me. I promise this is the only time where either Jon or Sansa is involved with another person.  
> This fic is quite sweet in my opinion, and it's an important step in the relationship. I hope you all enjoy!

The three month duration of Sansa’s ‘relationship’ with Harry was the worst quarter year of Jon’s life. The two kissed every day at school, neither scolded by teachers on account of their pristine academic records. Jon had taken to skipping lunch, hiding anywhere that wasn’t the cafeteria—he couldn’t eat while Sansa sat in her boyfriend’s lap.

In December Theon’s dad went out of town, leaving the sixteen-year-old alone all weekend. Naturally, Theon threw a party.

Sansa wasn’t meant to be invited, but her boyfriend brought her along. Jon, for his part, attended to make sure things didn’t get too out of hand. After a few drinks Greyjoy was useless, and Jon was the most responsible of their friend group.

The house was stocked with Kraken rum. In the garage an upperclassman unloaded a few cases of beer. The perfect scene to get shit-faced, and his little sister was the only freshman around.

She’d dressed to impress. Jon had never seen that little green dress before, the color offsetting her hair perfectly. It rolled over her hips and clung to her waist, the fabric looking sinfully soft. His brain short-circuited when he saw her legs. She’d had a growth spurt recently, and it showed.

A few hours in and none of the neighbors had complained yet. It was only a matter of time. They were keeping the music at a reasonable volume, but the cheers in the garage only rose in pitch as the night waned on. Jon went to inspect.

A ping pong table was set up with plastic cups, crowds milling around to watch the match. A new game started, and Hardyng approached one end with a teammate. Sansa stood at his side, pressed her lips to her beau’s cheek.

Jon couldn’t say what possessed him. He told himself he was tired of seeing Harry win all the time. If he was being honest, it was Sansa’s good luck kiss that did him in.

There was no competition for Sansa’s affections, not when being her brother disqualified him from competing. Still, he would oppose Hardyng whenever possible. He grabbed Renly Baratheon and brought him to the table.

When the cups were refilled they began tossing the ball. Harry went first, missed. No one dared laugh. Jon tried next and managed to sink the little ball into the furthest cup. Cheers pealed through the garage. It wasn’t an effective way to suppress the party noise, but Sansa’s smirk made the potential trouble worth it. Hardyng drank his defeat and threw the cup to the ground.

Back and forth they went, Renly managing to take two cups out of the game. With each of Jon’s turns Harry drank. It wasn’t fair, really. The prick was losing his faculties by the game’s end. Jon himself felt buzzed after chugging only one cup. When he sank the last cup, more cheers sounded. Jon only heard Sansa.

She beamed across the garage, clapping her hands for him. He felt invincible.

Harry scowled at his traitorous girlfriend. He lifted the final cup of beer and tipped it onto Sansa’s pretty green dress.

Gasps. Sansa’s, Renly’s, everyone’s.

“Have fun walking home,” Hardyng said, and left the garage.

Sansa’s entire face went red. It wasn’t one of her lovely blushes, but humiliation. She ducked her head and sped into the house.

A few guys set up another game. Jon abandoned Renly to follow his sister inside.

Her hair stuck out in the crowd. She snaked around the bodies in the kitchen, past Theon who had dubbed himself the Kraken king. Down the hall, she slipped into the bathroom.

This wasn’t about showing Hardyng up, nor was it about Jon. It was about the look on Sansa’s face. His sweet sister may get her way often, but she didn’t deserve to be treated thusly. He moved for the bathroom door and knocked.

“Go away,” she called.

Jon knocked again. “It’s me.”

The door opened a crack. He entered, locked it behind him. Sansa stood at the sink, rag in hand. One look at him and her face crumpled.

“Hey.”

He opened his arms. She curled into his chest, wrapped her arms about his waist. Jon shifted his weight as he held her, rocking them both.

“You were right about him,” she whispered into his neck.

“I didn’t want to be.”

For thirty-eight seconds she molded into him. She felt too good in his arms. Her dress _was_ soft, like suede. Jon caught his own gaze in the mirror, glared at himself.

“You’re a good brother.”

“No I’m not.” He hadn’t meant to speak it. She looked up at him with watery blue eyes, so he continued. “I’ve spilled things on you, too.”

A little grin brightened her face. “Well I’m your sister. You’re supposed to be a jerk to me.”

He shook his head, but her smile was infectious. “You shouldn’t let anyone be a jerk to you. Not even me.”

Something flickered in her eyes, almost like he was a stranger. She leaned the barest fraction closer, imperceptible but for the warmth of her on his skin.

“Alright.”

Jon released his hold on her. “You want me to take you home?”

Sansa blinked and shook her head to dislodge some new thought. “Um...mom can’t see me covered in beer.”

“Here.”

He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. She balled the shirt up in her hands, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“What?”

“You _can’t_ go out there like that,” she said, eyes stuck to his chest.

That was interesting. Jon’s brow rose without permission.

“What do you suggest, princess?”

Cheeks pink, she pulled his shirt on over her dress. It fit her well, loose at the waist but snug in a few choice places. At least it covered her cleavage. He looked at his shoes.

“Stay here.”

Music flowed in as she left. Alone, filled with shame, Jon dealt with his erection. He washed his hands, splashed his face with water, and leaned back against the door. He laughed at himself.

What a joke it all was. The sweet, perfect girl with a sick fuck for an older brother.

“Knock, knock.”

He stepped away from the door. Sansa held a fresh shirt out to him, averting her eyes.

“It’s Theon’s. He wants it back.”

Jon drove his sister home, covered for her when dad asked about their night. He practically ran for the stairs, afraid to follow her up when she wore a dress that short. When he reached his door her hand tugged him to a stop.

“Thank you,” she said.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. He watched her flit to her room, brushed his fingertips over the burning skin. That night marked another shift in their relationship, another secret he’d have to harbor. But what did a fifteen-year-old know of love?

**Author's Note:**

> I can NOT write Jonsa without romance--they're both such saps.


End file.
